Ripley's Dispute
by Tsuki-Moon
Summary: With the death of Dickie behind him and a new life in view, Tom reflects on life and love... and death. Yes, of course there is slash. Did you really expect one without it? It's tactful, though, really.


**_Author's Note:__ I absolutely love analyzing Tom Ripley. He has got to be the most interesting character I have ever stumbled across. This journal is set up in the same form as the journal I did in "Ripley's Recollection" but it's an entirely different story. Oh, and by the way, I found out something today as I was reading bits of TTMR over again. Peter IS in the books! Here is a quote: _**

"Tom called Mr.Greenleaf from Peter Smith-Kingsley's house at about seven o'clock… (After he finished the call) Tom went back into the other room. 'There's no more news from Rome' he said dejectedly to the group.

'Oh.' Peter looked dissapointed. 

'Here's for the phone call, Peter,' Tom said, laying twelve hundred lire on top of Peter's piano. 'Thanks very much.'" (Highsmith, 231)

And do you want to hear the best part about this chapter? Yes, Peter isn't in it for very long, but right after Tom and Marge (grrrr…) leave Peter's residence, Tom loses the keys to his own home. Wow… I love the symbolism of that key, and even if Patricia Highsmith hadn't meant it to be that way, it certainly made me a happy lil' Tsuki. Well, I hope that you all enjoy my story.

# **_Always and Eternally, Tsuki_**

## 

## **Ripley's Dispute**

**By Tsuki-Moon**

Dear Journal,

It's starting again. That feeling that I always got in my stomach whenever Dickie looked at me or took time to speak to me. Only, this time, it's not Dickie that's giving me this feeling. And that's a good thing, because by now Dickie's corpse is probably rotting away, being eaten slowly by underwater bacteria. No, the person that's giving me this feeling is Peter. I told you about Peter. That gorgeous man at the opera. Wow… if I could have abandoned Meredith and pried Peter away from Marge that night, I probably would have. I still wish I had.

Peter's stunning. Good God, he's more than that. He's kind and gentle and graceful- everything that could possibly make up a perfect person, he is. But I'm worried. Why? A whole hell of a lot of reasons, actually. First off, I don't know what Peter thinks about Dickie's disappearance. He's been to the police station with me twice and has been nothing but supportive, but how can I really know? A friend of mine –Adam- from back in America used to tell me that I needed to trust people more. He always trusted everyone, but I was always more skeptic and pessimistic. I always felt like I needed to do everything that I could to make sure that the person (whoever it was) liked me. Adam told me that would only get me hurt and that I needed to be honest and depend upon people more. Well, Adam relied on someone too much, and that friend ended up killing him. It was an accident, really. Adam really shouldn't have pissed me off on that camping trip.

In fact, that's the second thing that scares me about Peter. I know that if I'm feeling this way right now, then I'll probably feel the same way I did about Dickie later on too. Oh God, I wanted to kill Dickie. I thought about it a lot, but I almost never took the thoughts seriously. Almost. On that train trip to San Remo, I knew that only one of us was coming back. I knew it in my gut as I stared at Dickie's beautiful face. I loved Dickie; I was going to kill him.

I shuttered as I just wrote that. It's true though. I always seem to kill what I love. My parents died before I even knew what they looked like, but I know that I must have loved them. When I was living with my aunts, I had this pet lizard that I loved dearly too. I swear it was what kept me from snapping when my aunts yelled at me and called me a fucking sissy. Well, the lizard died. I killed it. I was cleaning it's cage and- _SPLAT- I accidentally dropped the glass enclosure on the poor thing. After that, I just drove people away. I never thought that I was cursed or anything, I was just antisocial. Then I met a boy named Hugh. He was an acrobat at my high school. Long, smooth legs and powerful arms, Hugh could do five back flips and a backhand walkover without even breaking a sweat. He was a pretty damn good kisser too. Of course, he had an accident that one day on the highbeam. After that, Adam died. He was just a friend- straight as an arrow basically- but I loved him. Something always happens to the people I love. Hell, look what happened to Dickie. _

I can't let myself get too close to Peter. Peter is a fine person who could do anything with his life. He doesn't need my dark shadows covering his sunshine. In fact, it's the last thing he needs. 

-Tom

Dear Journal,

Sorry that I haven't written in awhile. I haven't had the need. In fact, I hope that this will be my last entry. I've found someone that I think I can tell all my thoughts to and not have to hold back. Well, I might have to hold back a bit, but all non-violent thoughts I can tell him. Peter is wonderful. I really do think that I'm in love. He moved in with me last week, believe it or not. This is so surreal. In a good way, though. I just can't believe that something so wonderful as Peter could stand to be around me. It's amazing. 

Yes, I will confess that I am still a little bit scared. But I'm getting over it. Last night I was kissing Peter (okay, I was actually doing more, but I won't go into detail) and I just didn't want to stop. I kiss him and taste him and sometimes he's just so good that I wonder what would happen if I pushed it further. No, I don't mean sex. We've done that already, and yes it's wonderful. I mean, sometimes, he tastes like liquid fire and love and life rolled into one and I can feel his skin between my fingers and I want to keep pulling and tearing at him and I think I might hurt him. And, deep down, I know that if it ever did come to that, I don't think I'd be able to stop myself, no matter how much I love him. 

Sometimes I wonder why I kill at all. I don't wonder too often. It's not productive and it makes my head hurt. But I do wonder at times. Sometimes I think I just want to immortalize the moment. I think it has something to do with the blood and that magical moment when a person's last breath leaves their body that I crave. Sometimes I think that I'm just fucked up. 

I notice that I've been swearing more since Dickie died. I think I picked up the habit from him. I guess there's some irony there. I wonder what I would act like if I killed Peter. Damn it! Stop it! Stop thinking like that! Peter's wonderful, and kind, and beautiful, and benevolent, and empathetic- everything that you're not! Stop thinking like that! You love him!

I think I need to go lie down.

- Tom

Dear Journal,

Okay, I'm back and I feel better. Peter and I just snuggled on our bed, watching the sunset. I _do love him. I don't know what came over me earlier. I plan never to open this damn journal again. It seems like whenever I do, awful thoughts come. Besides, I don't need this journal anymore. I have Peter. I'll always have Peter. I love Peter, and that will never end. His touch, his voice… his __love is everything to me. So is his life. I love Peter and I will never, ever, hurt him. I know what I want in life now. I want Peter. It doesn't matter at all, as long as I can have Peter. Maybe, perhaps, I'll open the closet for him as well. Maybe. I'm still afraid of what he'll say, how he'll react. But I love Peter. God, I sound like a teenager, but it's true. _

Journal, I don't need you anymore. I have someone to talk to, to confide in. Peter and I can be happy now- I just know it! I don't need death, or killing or anything. Just Peter. Goodbye, Journal. 

-Tom

Dear Journal,

I killed Peter today. I'm an idiot.

-Tom

**_ _**

**_ _**


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